


Short

by mific



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Ancient Tech, Drabble, Fanfiction, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-04-21
Updated: 2010-04-21
Packaged: 2017-10-09 02:03:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 682
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/81783
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mific/pseuds/mific
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Shit," John said. "That's not good."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Short

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written as commentfic for a McSheplet's Tree challenge. Re-edited to fix the grammar since I'm now not constrained by the character-count.

  
“It is scanner,” said Zelenka.

“Who knows?” retorted Rodney. “Could be a pooper-scooper.”

Zelenka’s face darkened. “Ancients had no dogs. Or grass.”

Rodney circled the machine. “Probably broken. We’ve twiddled all the knobs and felt it up."

John sauntered across. “What’s that?”

“No idea,” said Rodney. “Broken.”

“Scanner,” muttered Zelenka stubbornly.

Rodney put his hands on the metallic panels that were just the right size. Nothing happened.

“Huh,” said John, and did something to a knob on the useless thing’s top.

There was a white flash, and when their vision cleared Rodney's arms were stretched wider on the panels and his hands looked smaller on the blue metal. He was four feet tall.

“Shit,” John said. “That’s not good.”

Zelenka started swearing in Czech about the same time Rodney started shouting. Or rather, piping angrily, his voice having risen an octave. His small arms flailed, pummeling John’s thighs.

“Whoa,” said John, restraining him. “Jesus, calm down. Look, just do it again, it’ll probably reset.”

“Easy for you to say!” shrilled Rodney. “Colonel Blunder!”

John frowned. “Got any better ideas?”

Rodney scowled and put his hands on the panels. John fiddled with the knob again.

This time Rodney was two feet tall. He beat furiously on John’s calves and tried to bite his BDUs. John prised his tiny hands off and lifted him up, holding the wriggling limbs and spitting face away until Rodney’s rage subsided. The small form went limp as though switched off. John noticed Rodney’s chest was heaving, his face wet.

“Hell. Oh Jesus, Rodney, I’m sorry. Come on buddy, it’ll be OK.” It seemed wrong somehow to hold him in mid-air, but John didn’t want to put him down. He was so tiny, he could get hurt. Stepped on. He cradled Rodney against his chest and stroked his hair. Rodney’s head fitted the palm of his hand.

“I will start working to determine..." Zelenka made a squishing gesture. “Database has information. We will crack this, Rodney, trust me.”

Muffled squeaks arose from John’s neck. “Morons” “fired” and “tragic loss” were among the excited yells.

“I’ll just...“ John said to Zelenka, backing away. “Until he’s calmed down some.”

Zelenka nodded absently, wielding a screwdriver.

John headed for the infirmary, although Carson couldn't do anything.

“…dare…me…off!” piped Rodney in his ear.

“What?” He held Rodney out a little. His adult face, twisted with distress, was strange on the tiny body. Like a child, but not. Not at all.

“Dare to make any mini-me jokes and I’ll bite your ear off!” Rodney clarified.

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

“Where are we going?”

“Infirmary - you know the drill.”

Rodney wriggled furiously, almost slipping from John’s grasp. “Hey! Careful, I don’t want to drop you.”

“Don’t let that quack _near_ me, Sheppard! Those needles of his'll drain me dry!” Rodney was genuinely terrified.

“Okay, calm down, I won’t let him hurt you.” Rodney was shaking, so John pulled him close again, petting him. “I’ll keep you safe, I promise.”

“Your room,” came a small voice.

“Yeah, okay.”

He put Rodney down on his bed. Rodney immediately face-planted, shoulders heaving, tiny fingers clutching the covers as he wept. John sat awkwardly beside him, unsure what to do. He stroked Rodney’s back. Finally he lifted him up, lying back against the pillows, Rodney prone on his chest.

“This is the worst…” Rodney whispered, his voice breaking. “My giant intellect can’t possibly fit into a brain this size.”

“Seems okay, so far,” John reassured him, stroking the nape of Rodney’s neck. “Zelenka’ll solve it. Get some sleep, you’re exhausted.”

“How can I possibly sleep…” muttered Rodney, his reed-like voice slurring. “Complete fucking nightmare…”

John cradled Rodney in his arms, Rodney's small, flushed face pressed sleepily against his chest, slender legs brushing his ribs. He hummed Brahms’ Lullaby.

Snuffling noises and snores began to emanate from the region of John’s armpit. He settled lower in the bed, curling himself protectively around Rodney, thinking “off” at the lights.

Rodney’s hair was soft against John’s palm. Bending carefully, he pressed a kiss to the top of the small head.

 


End file.
